A Deliverance of Discoloration
by inconsistentlypresent
Summary: Ben Solo is the Resistance's interrogator, struggling to keep his darker impulses in check. It's especially difficult when his mother and uncle charge him with examining the mind of their newest prisoner, General Hux, who is willing to go very far indeed to avoid betraying the First Order.


**AN** Warning: suicide attempt, though no one dies.

Hope you enjoy the fic!

* * *

The first thing Ben thinks when he sees General Hux is that he's smaller than he expected. Maybe even he's become victim of Resistance propaganda. The campaigns Ben's seen always portray General Hux as a hulking monster who crushed the billions of lives in the Hosnian system with animalistic pleasure.

The man cuffed to the table before him is as tall as the posters make him out to be, but he's skinny and narrow in a way that surprises Ben. The Resistance, in their rush to utilize their newest source of information, hasn't even assigned him a room or given him prisoner's clothes yet, and the general's foreign First Order uniform only adds to his lost air.

He looks up when Ben enters the sparse interrogation room, his pale blue-green eyes scanning over Ben in an almost nervous way. He looks very pale and very young, the red of his hair and the chalkiness of his cheeks creating a sickly sort of contrast. He isn't helping his case with how tightly he's pressing his bloodless lips together, as if to muffle a scream. Ben might even think him harmless if he didn't know better. And this is one of the most feared men in the galaxy? Ben knows he should be trying to stir up some compassion, in the Jedi way, but he's finding it difficult to fight off his instinctive reaction of disgust.

Their eyes meet. Hux half-heartedly bares his teeth at him, and Ben feels panic starting to rise in his throat. He tries to fight it. His uncle believes in him, and his mother depends on him, and his father . . . well, his father is the same as ever; still thinks or hopes Ben's 'moods' can be cured if he just listens well enough to his uncle. Nowadays Ben's father spends most of his time repairing ships instead of flying them. Their paths don't often cross.

But whatever his family has said in the past, Ben can't stop the dread sinking throughout his body as he stares at the general.

No. Ben needs all of his focus right now. It will be difficult, but people are counting him. And there is little that Ben hates more than being a disappointment.

Still, doubt persists, scratching madly at his thoughts. Sometimes Ben wishes he could reach into his own mind and pluck out the problems, but it doesn't work that way.

 _Don't be cruel, Ben,_ his uncle had said, just before Ben entered the interrogation room. Grimacing, his mother had quickly added, _But you cannot afford to be merciful._ His mother has a singular focus. It's one of her strongest assets; it's why people go hushed and starry-eyed when they see her. Ben used to feel that way too. More and more, however, Ben feels as though she's pressing him too far, that if it weren't for his uncle, he would have already succumbed to his darker impulses.

Stars. Ben owes so much to his uncle. Thinking about it makes him feel even guiltier about the distance between them. His uncle is always stretching out his hand, but Ben always finds new parts of himself he can't let anyone else see. They mustn't see.

There were a number of well-wishers before Ben walked into the interrogatoon room. They only talked about the general: how evil he is, how Ben can't let him under his skin. Ben wishes he could have explained that he isn't frightened of the general, he's frightened of himself.

In an effort to shake off his hesitance, Ben steps forward to take a seat across from Hux. The heavy white table doesn't separate them a great deal, but Ben isn't concerned about them being so close. Hux isn't dangerous. Besides, it's mostly for show, an illusion of equal footing. He won't need it for long.

"Ah, there you are," Hux says. His voice is sharp and direct, like a knife. He sounds like someone who enjoys telling others what to do. "You'll be torturing me, I presume." He's looking squarely at Ben, and though he appears cool and composed, Ben doubts that he'd be so calm if he knew what awaited him.

 _Don't be cruel, Ben._

If there's one thing Ben has learned, it's that fear makes for easier prey, and that easier prey makes for a shorter, less painful interrogation. He tries to tell himself that he's doing the right thing by hoping that if he scares Hux enough, there will be no need for anything harsher. There will be no need to risk unleashing the temptation that always plagues him - to take things further, to push until his subject breaks, cracks open like an egg. "We had to resort to other methods eventually. The questioners were very accommodating. More accommodating than you deserve."

Hux's sneer twists up his face. "Oh, yes, I'm sure the noble Resistance found it so very difficult, sending you to torture me. Well? Get on with it. Electrocute me or cut me up or whatever it is you do."

"I don't do that," Ben says. A sickening knot is starting to twist and solidify in the pit of his stomach but he keeps his eyes fixed on Hux. There is no reason to be afraid. Hux is a monster, and Ben is not. "I will take it from your mind."

Hux eyes widen, and the flash of panic that fills the room is nearly tangible. His face contorts into defensive rage as he covers up his fright with bluster. "I dealt with one of your kind on my ship once," he spits. "A Knight of Ren. She was almost as unpleasant as you."

Irritation flare up within Ben, breaking his forced calm. "I'm _nothing_ like those knights of yours. Enough of this. I'll take the information from you whether you want me to or not. You're only stalling."

Hux watches him, casual to an off-putting degree, if one ignores the alertness in his eyes. "Did I strike a nerve there?"

Ben stands up abruptly, then reaches out in the Force and brushes against Hux's mind. There's a sense of determination, but also fear in his mind. Curiosity, too - he's wondering why Ben has stood up, what exactly Ben will do to him, how much it will hurt.

Ben worries his lip as he steps forward, close enough to see every one of the general's eyelashes. This has to be quick. He cannot let himself get lost.

"What -" but Hux is cut off when Ben lifts one of his arms. Hux's head moves forward, as if magnetized towards Ben's gloved hand.

Ben closes his eyes, and steps into Hux's mind.

It's organized and chaotic at the same time, like a battle. There is a complex system at work here, but in some areas, Ben can sense no order at all. That's all normal.

Still, Hux's mind is remarkable. He's known to be a genius, and for good reason - his mind has a greater breadth than most Ben has experienced. And it's harder to parse. Ben tests his tread carefully, the feeling akin to walking down a staircase in darkness. But he is not worried: while it may take a bit longer with a mind like Hux's, Ben's eyes, so to speak, will adjust soon.

Ben knows the first step of an interrogation. A demonstration, a threat. It's a little unnecessary, but he and his mother agree on at least one thing: it is the most effective way to go about an interrogation. It weakens the mind, reduces it to blind terror. _It won't go further than that, uncle, I promise._

"Do you have any secrets, general?"

And the terrible thing about the mind is that Hux's immediately gravitates towards a collection of memories, betraying its owner. All Ben needs to do is follow it, duck under the fleets of information and thoughts streaming past him, all of which have an aura of fear, like animals fleeing from a fire.

"I did once get drunk before an exam," Hux says. His voice sounds strained. This close, Ben can smell the dirt and blood on him. The story is probably true then. Everyone, including Ben, has heard what happened when the Resistance first captured the general, how he refused to stand down: thrashed, bit, broke some noses, some fingers, bled, bloodied others, until he was finally tranquilized. The general lacks finesse, but he certainly shows . . . spirit.

At least the questioners let him keep his coat, after checking that it was bug-less and weaponless, if a little stained.

"Alcohol wasn't allowed at the Academy," the general continues, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. He's trying to distract Ben. Smart, but no smart enough. "I still passed the exam with flying colors."

"Congratulations," Ben says, still fixated on his goal.

"Thank you. Your opinion does matter so much to me," Hux says haughtily, making an effort to sound unaffected. But he should not try to fool someone submerged in his thoughts, because Ben can see all of Hux's emotions.

(Oh, yes, he can see them. They're so vibrant, so terrible and lovely, he wants to stop and wallow in them, to sink into Hux's shame and horror. Ben's never before felt self-loathing this powerful during an interrogation. There's something inside Ben's mind that hungers for it, that pulls at its chain and begs to be let loose. _Don't be cruel,_ he thinks to himself, and moves along, even as his mouth waters and the thing in his mind roars in outrage.)

He follows the path to Hux's secrets, so clear it's as if it's lit up. Hux puts up stumbling blocks here and there but Ben weaves around the enemy fire with relative ease. "You did learn to defend your mind, to an extent at least, from being around that knight. I'm impressed."

"Lot of good it's doing me right now," Hux says, voice light but strained. "It only worked on Lady Rey once, after that she - she . . ." His sentence trails off. Ben can sense how Hux's hands are welded together on the table, shaking almost imperceptibly. On the outside, with Ben's own two eyes, it'd be unnoticeable. But in Hux's mind every nervous gesture is magnified by the hundreds to be reprimanded, criticized.

Ben pauses to marvel at Hux's brain and its strangeness. What efficient self-loathing. It's terrible, yet fascinating. Why is it so ingrained in the general's mind?

But he can find the answer to that question later. Ben barrels ahead, and feels the usual guilty excitement when he reaches his goal. The memories, swelling with shame, are ready to be breached. "What do we have here?" He can tell that Hux has held his breath, has squeezed his eyes shut. Ben takes a moment to gather his strength, then stabs into the collection of thoughts.

Hux cries out. Ben ignores it. The memory fills his head: a towering man, his father, snarling words as he shakes him. Fear jolts his heart. Will he throw him to the ground again, grind his heel into his side? Someone knocks on the door, and his father lets go of him, smooths his hair before leaving to greet the visitor. He wants to run but there is nowhere to go.

"Stop it," Hux says, begs, his voice tight and fragile. Louder: "Stop it now."

There are more memories, of the same kind, but Ben thinks one is enough for now.

The general exudes shame. Ben opens his eyes to look at him. He's glaring into Ben's palm, breath fast and jaw clenched, murderous and so, so ready to be broken. The picture of temptation.

"Still won't tell me?" Ben says. His uncle prefers it when a prisoner is persuaded to give up information, rather than have it forced from their mind. Ben knows he should want that as well. But he's already started, and now he's keen to see the entire interrogation through.

Perhaps his uncle will still get his wish. The violation of it, it's been enough to make other prisoners break . . .

But, fortunately, Hux is stronger than he looks. "Fuck off," he growls, jaw clenched tight. Still, his voice is terribly shaky, and his eyes are wet. Ben knows he has him.

"What else do you have in that mind of yours?" Ben says. The barrage of panic that fills Hux's mind is enough to make Kylo pause, bracing himself against the emotion. It whips up Kylo's heartbeat, and with that energy he presses eagerly forward once more. "Would you happen to know - oh, I don't know, where the First Order's main base is?"

Ben can sense Hux's mind change, opening an unwitting path to the answer - but Ben waits for his reply, even though by now, Ben knows Hux won't ever willingly give up information. It's the principle of things, his uncle tells him. Ben has to give him every chance.

And if - _when_ Hux consciously refuses to divulge the information, the general will know that it's his fault alone when Ben rips the answers from him. Ben won't have done anything wrong. His mother always insists, in situations like this, that Ben has only done his duty. (Often, she sounds like she's trying to persuade not only Ben but her brother too.)

 _You cannot afford to be merciful._

The panic in Hux's mind somewhat subsides. Uncertainty, then resolve. Ben is so entrenched in Hux's mind that he doesn't know the cause of these feelings, only the raw emotions themselves. Ben finds himself hoping that Hux is resolving to keep quiet. Then Ben can crack open Hux's mind, and his mother will have the information she wants. His uncle will have no cause to blame him, because it won't be Ben's fault.

Then a deafening thought nearly knocks Ben out from Hux's head: _You'll never get anything out of me._

Ben severs the connection, eyes flying open. Hux's head is ducking down to the high stiff collar of his uniform. Quickly he snaps something with his teeth. A hidden seal? - it must be - how could they have missed it? But he's got something in his mouth - and now - now he's -

"No!" Ben shouts as Hux begins biting down. This _cannot happen_. The Force surges through Ben's body like a flood, quickening his body to action, and he jumps over the table. In that split second, Ben realizes Hux's throat is moving, that he's trying to swallow something.

Ben doesn't think. He acts. Hux chokes, gasps, as Ben constricts his throat with the Force. The general's face goes rigid with panic, and it looks good, it looks _right_ this way.

With his free hand, Ben grips Hux's face, starts prying his jaws open without gentleness, even as Hux tries to keep it clamped shut. But Hux is weakened without air going to his lungs. Ben wrests open Hux's mouth. And sees it.

A pill lolls on Hux's tongue. Ben uses the Force to jolt Hux's body forward. The pill goes flying; Ben catches it and then, somewhat reluctantly, releases Hux's throat.

Hux immediately begins coughing, fighting for breath, doubling over best he can with his hands still cuffed to the table. Ben realizes somewhere in the back of his mind that he's never choked someone before. It sounds awful; the general's coughing is awful. Yet at the same time, it is almost too easy to block out.

He focuses on the pill in his hand. He recognizes it immediately, by its sickly green color; by the warning markings, black slashes at each end. Resistance agents carry something similar when they go on missions.

It's a suicide pill.

Fortunately, it appears barely touched. Still, Ben can't help stepping away, putting senseless distance between the pill and the general.

Ben thought he'd completely severed the connection, but he can still feel how Hux's mind seems to swell with anger, filling the room. Panting, Hux nonetheless speaks.

"I don't care about your Jedi tricks," he says, voice ragged and reduced to a murmur. His wrists strain against the cuffs. He looks as though he wants nothing more than to murder Kylo and everyone else on the base. "I. Won't. Talk. I'll kill myself before I betray the First Order. I'll bite my own tongue and choke on the blood before you get _anything_ out of me." His raised voice causes him to cough. Yet he continues to speak - _what presses him to do that? what drives a man like him?_ \- with an unhinged look in his eyes. "Do you understand? Do you?"

Ben swallows. Hux's anger overwhelms him, yet somehow makes him feel alive. He's terrified of what it might mean. "I think - you need rest," he says, stutters, and with a wave of his hand Hux slumps onto the table, unconscious.

Ben's other hand, the one with the pill nestled in the palm, closes into a fist. He wants to look at it again, but he shouldn't. He shouldn't be in this room at all.

Ben leaves the interrogation room and strides out into the hallway, where people, including his mother, are waiting. He knows she'll ask what happened, but Ben doesn't know what he'll say.

"Ben!" His uncle, hurrying forward, is the first to speak to him. "Are you alright? I thought I felt -" he pauses "- something."

Ben stares at his uncle, trying to piece together a response.

Undoubtedly, he's failed. He's achieved nothing for the Resistance. Yet he feels so awake and so pleased, and he doesn't know why. Can't admit why. And the thing in his mind is still, is _always_ so hungry. Sometimes Ben thinks it might swallow him whole, and sometimes he thinks he might be the better for it.

"I'm alright," Ben says.

His uncle looks like he wants to say more, but then his mother starts asking about the First Order's base and the general's current state, and his uncle was never one to interrupt. As his mother talks, Ben registers that some of the officers are looking at him funny. Is there something wrong with his expression? Can they tell? They mustn't. Ben dutifully answers his mother's questions and tries not to sound too nonchalant when he says he failed, even as his head spins with something dark and frightening and, somehow, welcome.

The pill is cool in his hand.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback and CC is always appreciated, no matter how short._


End file.
